


Tell Me Where It Hurts

by realelvenking



Category: Lord of the Rings - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:26:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23122450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/realelvenking/pseuds/realelvenking
Summary: Thranduil needs some therapy only a lover can provide
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Tell Me Where It Hurts

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the title comes from the song by Garbage.

He’s had a few drinks. Not drunk, just enough to blur the edges, eyes dull as he opens the door, letting the other inside.   
The man opens his mouth to speak, but the Elvenking places a finger on his lips. “Shhh” and kisses him, softly, like a lover should. It’s been a bad day in a string of bad days. No more words. 

Thranduil feels the younger man’s hands tangling in his hair, too tired to fight it. Mouths meet and don’t part as his fingers explore under the white shirt, palms meeting skin. The shirt has to come off. Now. Somehow, they manage not to part, yet disrobe fully, as if in a dance, moving towards the bed. 

He’s laid flat, underneath, savouring the touch for once instead of fighting it. He had no more fight left in him today. 

Lips part, the kiss breaks and breath catches. 

Firen’s mouth is at Thranduil’s neck, hot. The kisses are urgent, lustful. Thranduil lays back and takes it, his lovers’ hands almost unsure where to settle. For a moment, Firen’s fingers brush over sensitive scarred skin and he gasps as if the same fingers had penetrated him. It’s a practised worship. 

Firen’s mouth has traced down now, always with the same insistent pace. Desire. It never changes. His tongue licks, his teeth nip a little at (almost) perfect skin, fingers now trailing lower, stroking inner thigh. 

Today isn’t a day for a tease, only enthusiasm. Still, Thranduil groans as his lover’s hot, wet mouth encapsulates his erect cock in one fluid movement. It’s what he needs. He needs to be inside - mouth, welcoming hole. Anywhere. 

Block out everything else. 

Firen’s expert mouth works his cock, tongue flicking under and over. For a moment the mortal King looks up, but Thranduil’s eyes are closed, he’s lost, somewhere else. 

The elf’s hand moves towards the man’s head, pushing his fingers through Firen’s hair as he begins to thrust back into his pliant mouth. It becomes rougher, faster, desperate — but at the very moment he is about to hit his peak, the mouth moves away, the cold air hits his swollen cock, wet with spit. His lover wants to be fucked with the same insistence. 

Firen has already moved back up to his mouth, immediately opening up for Thranduil’s tongue again - the King likes to taste himself. Power. 

He’s already manoeuvring the mortal into place, led once again by his mouth. Firen’s on his back now, as he should be, Thranduil is in charge. He lines his wet head up with an unsurprisingly well-prepared entrance. Good boy. 

He breaks the kiss with ferocity, a bite on the man’s lower lip that makes him yelp, not letting him come to his senses before pushing in - it’s hot, wet and welcoming.   
The King allows himself a moan of pleasure. His lover paces his breathing to accommodate the stretch. Even now, it’s still deliciously hard work. 

Thranduil never lets him wait for long, drawing back almost to the very tip and plunging in again, rolling his hips now as he fills the channel again and again, Firen’s breath lost. Thranduil pauses for a moment, his thumb flicking over the bead of precum forming on Firen’s cock, raising it to his mouth and running his tongue over it. 

With the same hand, he takes Firen’s and places it around the man’s erection, encouraging him to stroke it in time with his thrusts. As selfish as he is, he has to feel his lover’s spill before he can fill him with his own come. It’s his way of conquering those who find themselves lucky enough to be in his bed. 

The man is still young - and mortal - no match for Thranduil’s stamina. Usually the King can milk a few rounds out of him before he’s done, but today Firen can sense Thranduil wants a release, rhythmically thrusting away with heavy lidded eyes. His cock seems even bigger than usual, harder, his impending release more critical than ever before. Firen isn’t going to last much longer with Thranduil pounding into him, his own hand working his cock between them, but it’s what Thranduil wants — and he wants Thranduil. Firen bites his lip, trying to last that bit longer, but one look at Thranduil’s face - his open mouth, his low moans - it’s enough to push him to the edge, coating the King’s stomach in his seed. 

Thranduil seems to be encouraged by this, thrusting harder and harder into Firen’s hole, when Firen’s fingers reach down and stroke over where they join, the King shudders, his whole body stiffening for just a second as he fills his tight channel with hot fluid that spills out onto Firen’s fingers. Thranduil moans, somehow his release still flowing into his lover, who can’t resist a taste from his fingertips. 

Thranduil pitches forward, his head resting next to Firen’s, lips almost touching his ear. As he pulls out, letting his orgasm drip out onto the sheets below them. “Good boy.”


End file.
